Letting go of my obsession with the Crimson wasn't easy. As I crossed back through the desert, I thought of my sister Frosti, wearing her bucket-helmet and fumbling with her axe, carving a crude sword from shadewood.
I thought of Rose, who'd explored the Crimson before I even knew of the Crimson's existence, who'd smashed the beating hearts beneath the deadlands in a desperate bid for glory, who ransacked the mushroom cabin.
From my weapons chest, I grabbed a space gun and wired it up to my internal meteor armor. The suit itself would power the gun, which would otherwise feed on my low supply of magical energy.
I also took that crimtane broadsword-a "blood butcherer", Bradley had called it. Though gruesome in appearance and greasy to the touch, there was no denying its raw strength. It was, by far, my best weapon.
"Good luck," said Bradley, grinning. "I'll be cheering for you." Armed with throwing knives and spiked balls, I set off beyond the west hill and over the lakes.
On my way through the tundra, I delivered a boreal wood bed to the snow-tower. Though it was now uninhabited, I suspected I would see a good deal of use from the tower in the future.
A good number of meteorites had fallen since the last time I'd come through here; one had landed just a few hundred feet from the snow-tower. Another had landed on the opposite shore of the lake that separated tundra from the west woodland.
When I reached the bunker from my first journey to the Dungeon, I hesitated. For some reason, I had no desire to open it up again, to deal with the wandering zombies who would tumble down into the pit at night.
Filling in the bunker permanently, I chose a relatively small but round hill. Digging a small cave inside the hill, I built a dwelling from planked walls and gray brick, setting up a shadewood bed on the floor. It was a warm, cozy, and peaceful place to sleep...
I crossed over rivers and pools, lofty trees towering overhead. My pockets were brimming with red potions, some concentrated and infused with glowing mushrooms. My time in the Crimson had given me a newfound appreciation for nature's beauty.
A third meteor had landed in the lake before the Dungeon's entrance; I crossed it quickly, tiny flames lapping at my boots. The old man was still here, still weary-eyed, still wearing ragged clothes. "You again," he croaked as I approached, his bones outline in the torchlight. "I did not expect you to return."
I took out my chain knife, a finger flicking open the catch, my other hand at my spiked-ball pouch. "I can't leave you like this." I hadn't forgotten about the Crimson. If anything, seeing Skeletron's host only reminded me of that bloody landscape. But right now, it was too far away to horrify me.
"I fear you underestimate the monster inside me," warned the old man as the sun dipped below the horizon. "What terrible feats would you be capable of accomplishing, if you could vanquish him? Surely, you would need a monster inside yourself as well."
Moonlight filtered through cracks in the ceiling, casting thin pale stripes over the old man's eyes. "I'll have to make do with what I have," I said finally. "Host of Skeletron... I invoke your curse."
I didn't win. Nor did I win the following night, or the night after that. But I didn't give up. Battling the Crimson had seemed an endless, hopeless cause, but this... I felt as if I just might be able to win. A spectre was protecting me, after all.
"Why? Why do you persist?" asked the old man hoarsely one night. Leaning on a pillar, he stared as I approached him again, shaking his head. His eyes carried an old, heavy sorrow. "You endanger yourself, and all under your protection. Be not tempted by the Dungeon's treasures. Go, save yourself."
I wasn't going anywhere. There was a parallel between Skeletron's curse and the Crimson's hunger, the unliving god eating away at the old man's soul and the deadlands eating Corundia from the inside. "It's... it's not about the treasure," I said finally. "Evil... evil must be purged."
The old man scrutinized me carefully. "You've been training," he admitted, bones creaking as he slowly circled me in small, shuffling steps. "The glow of life... six crystals... seven, eight, nine... perhaps ten?" He shook his head. "Perhaps... perhaps you just might be able to break my curse."
I saw thin cracks in the weathered, hardened face. And so, I seized my opportunity, raising my crimtane blade. "Host of Skeletron! By Cenx's divine light, I invoke your curse!"
As Skeletron burst forth from the old man's body once again, I flung spiked balls across the floor, into the god's skeletal hands. Bone-fingers tried to shove their way through the heavy projectiles as I grappled up to the ceiling, lashing down with my chain-knife.
Listening for the giant skull's roar, I sprang down and opened fire with my space gun as Skeletron's head came spinning down through the ceiling. Green jets of light illuminated the dungeon entrance as they burst on the great skull. Twisting around, I slashed across the skull with my crimtane sword.
Survive, I thought numbly, drinking down a red flask in mid-leap. My body took a full sixty seconds to metabolize the potion before I could drink another; any sooner would result in nausea and heat flashes.
How painful was it to be ripped from the inside out, again and again? The old man's curse-and the curses upon all of Skeletron's hosts-had persisted for decades. Young, they were young once, but ages of servitude had hardened them, shriveled them, stripped then of their best years...
As I leapt over the skeletal hands-both buried to the wrist in spiked balls-giant fingerbones strucking my greaves, sending me crashing to the floor. Skeletron's hands were growing sluggish and tired, but so was I. Tipping down another potion, I flung throwing-knives into his palms, lashing out with my chain-knife.
Finally, both hands burst into dust. Furious, Skeletron came whirling upon me, slamming into me, sending me reeling back. Scrambling away, I rapidly squeezed the trigger of my space gun, firing into the hovering skull's eye-sockets.
Just a little more. I could see the cracks spreading over the great skull... but I was dazed, bruised, battered. Another hit would surely finish me. Come on, I thought to myself numbly. I had to hold myself together.
As the spinning skull dove at me again, I swung my grappling hook high, swinging over Skeletron's head and landing behind him. Tiny embers rose from the meteor-lake behind me, hissing as they touched my armor.
Raising the blood butcherer above my head with both hands, I hacked at SKeletron repeatedly, my heavy sword vibrating as it rebounded off the great skull. Once-twice-thrice-
Cracks formed on the skull beneath my blade, spreading, widening. Howling, Skeletron began to crumble, stripped of hands, powerless to reverse his fate. Sinking to my knees, I stared as the great skull exploded in a shower of marrow and bone.
I'd done it. I'd defeated Skeletron.
Without warning, I felt a fierce power stir within me, like the heat of the sun. My blood throbbed and pulsed, warming my flesh, a haze filling my head. Unbidden, I heard a savage cry coming from my throat.
For a brief second, my senses erupted. The shapes of the night were clear, thin blades of grass and the patterns on the dungeon's walls. I could hear every sound, from zombie growls to the grasshopper's whistle; I could detect all the pungent scents of the earth, feel each link in my chainmail.
Like a waking dream, images splashed over my vision-a shining city on the edge of the snow, rows of young guides-in-training gathered in the shadows of a tall Living tree.
A giant worm with a long spine of eyes descended from the sky. It had the molting, half-rotten skin of the eater-of-souls, thick pincers with which to tear open dirt and stone.
I saw people emerge from their homes as the great worm descended upon their city, staring in horror. With terrible purpose in its eyes, the Eater of Worlds crashed into the great tower at the city's center, swiftly ripping through its floors in one fluid movement.
Screaming, shrieking, groaning, weeping; the people of the city fell to their knees as the tower came tumbling down. Rising back into the air, the Eater of Worlds burst into dozens of segments, one for each eye.
Glowing with green flame, the segments dove back into the earth, tearing up pavement and houses in their paths, burrowing deep chasms into the earth. Some were swallowed whole; others, in their panic, tumbled down into the chasms.
Purple filaments began to spread through the city's bedrock foundations, permeating it, dulling stone into ebonstone. Where they touched grass, the filaments swelled and flourished, forming roots and blades, quickly overtaking the natural growth, choking them out. Fetid droplets fell on compact ice, staining them purple.
The Corruption was forming before my eyes. Chasm after chasm formed as the Eater of Worlds' segments gutted the city. One by one, the remaining houses crumbled and sank into the darkness, leaving homeless survivors stranded in the snow, lost and broken.
As the last remants of the city disappeared beneath the falling snow, each worm-segment burst into a shower of greenish-gray spores, one after another. Spiked altars deep within the chasms where the spore-clouds landed. And where each segment's eyeball had been, a tiny orb of pulsing shadows began to form.
"Help us."
As sensations and visions faded, I slowly got to my feet, trembling. What had come over me? I stared at my hand, at my crimtane blade, at Skeletron's remains. I'd never felt such a thrill, such a rush of adrenaline... never felt so alive.
The land I had seen was not Corundia, nor Alabaster, nor Minaria. And yet, something tugged at me from across the sea, calling me from afar...
Past the dungeon, grass and trees gave way to sandy beaches, palm trees swaying in the night. At the water's edge, I gazed across the moonlight-speckled sea. Breathing slowly, deeply, I took off my helmet, letting the wind sweep through my hair.
I caught sight of a rowboat approaching from across the sea; but I could see no one in it. Frowning, I watched as the boat drew close, hitting the shore with a soft thump.
The boat was manned by bunnies-three on each side, operating fixed paddles with their little paws. At the back of the boat, a large white rabbit stared at me with her soft, round eyes, beckoning me to come aboard. I was astonished.
"Well? What are you waiting for?" muttered a voice-the spectre's voice. "You recieved the distress call, didn't you? Get on."
I didn't move. Bradley, Jenna, Frederick, Tatiana, Fahd, and the others were waiting for me at the village, weren't they? "Where am I going?" I whispered. "And what about Corundia?"
There had been many times when I thought I might abandon this land forever-but my experiences had bonded me with Corundia inextricably. I'd built and torn down houses, explored caverns and discovered countless wonders.
I'd come through purpose and challenge, sorrow and victory. How could I depart for another land, when I could finally call this world my home?
"I'll let Bradley know what's happened," the spectre promised me. "Bradley will take care of things here while you're gone, just as he always does. Don't worry; you can always come back. But we need you right now."
When I looked back, the spectre was already gone.
Reluctantly, I climbed onto the bunnies' boat, taking a seat between the rowers. Pleased, the large rabbit smiled at me. At a short sequence of taps from her paw, the bunnies began to row away from the shore, into open waters.
And so I set off across the sea, into the unknown... destined for a strange new land.
To be continued in Act II: Avalon